Zaire, The Demon

        He gazed at the landscape around him, the clouds moving west, the sun setting upon the horizon, the calm summer breeze brushing through his short silver hair. It was calm and peaceful. Something he was not used to. He smiled and enjoyed the moment of tranquil peace that the world could give him. He sighed and thought to himself, “‘Tis time I take to flight and be off..” He flapped his giant black, demonic wings and flew up into the air, the calming summer winds carrying him along. He did not know where he could go, but he did know that it was not where he was.
        It was night now, the breeze just the same as it had been before. He wondered if he would be able to find a place to stay and not have to be troubled because of what he was to them. A demon they had called him. “What did it mean,” he questioned himself. He wasn’t quite familiar with their explanations and their way of life. It had no point, really. Just satisfaction, but he couldn’t even have that. They had hunted him down like an animal, it had seemed. There was posters put up with a rouge picture of him that had read: “Wanted, $10,000 reward for the capture of the demon dead or alive”. He didn’t know what ‘dead or alive’ had meant. He wasn’t familiar with the beings’ culture. He had thought to himself, “What does it all mean?” He discarded the thought for now and tried to look for a place to rest. He was flying over a dense forest and thought the safety of the trees might give him enough safety to rest for the night, so he landed nearby and found a nice branch he could sprawl on for the night and fell fast asleep.
        He had awoken, the morning sun beating upon his eyes. The birds were chirping and the morning breeze was soothing, and he yawned, stretching his arms out. A bird had landed on a nearby branch, he had noticed. He was hungry; he hadn’t eaten ever since they had started hunting him down. Luckily he wasn’t wounded that badly. A few scratches and scars on his chest were about all. He sighed softly and heard a voice call up to him. Startled, he looked down quickly and aware and called out to the voice, “Who’s there?"
        “’Tis only I, Garith,” the voice called back. “I thought maybe you could tell me where I may be?” He thought to himself, “Where you may be? Why, you be here, in the middle of the forest!!” He climbed down the tree and took a look at Garith. A tall lad, human, wearing a great shimmering armor of silver and a sheathed blade hilted at his waist, short brownish hair and a smile upon his face.
        “You’re in a grand forest just outside the small village of Pravil. Now, a question for you, are you a bounty hunter?” The human looked at him for a slight moment, then replied, “No, I am but a humble knight of the great castle Farvish.”